Chapter Six #2
I feel it rumble inside me as I lean toward her lips, my hunger erupts, a violent ignition deep in my core, as if someone strikes flint against bone.
Heat explodes through me in a blinding rush, coursing down my veins like molten metal, searing every nerve it touches.
My chest tightens, then expands with a shudder that feels as if my ribs might crack from the force of it.
For a moment, I swear I can hear it, this ancient inferno roaring to life inside me, a sound like flames sucking oxygen from the air, hungry and unstoppable.
The world narrows, her breath, her warmth, the delicate flutter of her pulse, and the rest falls away, swallowed by the fire engulfing me.
My body stills, but the movement is so quick she won’t have noticed.
The night darkens at the edges of my vision, colors sharpening unnaturally, every detail—her lashes trembling, her lips parting, waiting for my kiss, the rise of her pulse beneath her skin, glowing as if lit from within.
My senses sharpen to a painful clarity. Her scent hits me harder than I expect, rich, warm, and threaded with something rare, something intoxicating that pours gasoline on the blaze.
A deep growl erupts from my chest while heat floods my limbs, throat, and mouth, turning the simple want of a kiss into a frenzy that claws against my skull, rattling the cage of my control until I can hear my control bending.
My mouth hovers over hers, but the fire drags me lower, to the throbbing vein.
It’s primal, irresistible. My lips trace the line of her jaw as if pulled by invisible threads, drawn to the frantic hymn of her pulse.
That rhythm, God, that rhythm, it’s like a drumbeat syncing with my own, calling the monster inside me to the surface.
Sloane lets out a soft, breathy whimper, and the sound detonates inside me, a spark tossed into dry tinder.
My Bloodfire surges higher, hotter, consuming the scraps of restraint I have been clinging to.
It becomes something alive inside me, my fingers dig into her, probably harder than I should allow, centuries of starvation pushing, urging, demanding I take what it craves.
Another groan rumbles out of me, dragged from the depths of the monster I haven’t touched in lifetimes, dark and ancient.
My gums ache, then split as my fangs descend in a sharp, fluid rush, slicing into place with a sound I feel more than hear, a satisfying, damning click that vibrates through my jaw.
I move in, helpless against the storm raging through me. Instinct roars its commands—bite, drink, claim, consume—each one pounding through my mind with the force of a drum. A thin sliver of reason fights back, desperate, pleading, reminding me she is human, fragile, and more than prey.
But my Bloodfire doesn’t speak the language of caution.
It speaks in hunger.
In need.
In the ancient pulse of predator and possession.
It doesn’t care about reason, morality, or centuries spent trying to be something better.
It cares only for satiation.
Only for survival.
Only for the taste of her blood calling to me like a prayer I was built to answer.
Sloane gasps, a lustful whimper escaping her, her hands flying to my shoulders, but instead of pushing me away, she pulls me closer. She bares her throat to me willingly, tilting her head, arching her body against mine as if offering herself to the dark.
She wants this.
She wants me.
And that terrifies me more than the hunger ever could.
“Crave…” she whispers, my name breaking apart in her throat, a plea wrapped in trust, wrapped in heat.
My Bloodfire roars in approval.
My fangs ache painfully.
Her scent wraps around me, and it is threaded with something powerful I don’t recognize but crave like oxygen. Her blood calls to me with an intensity that borders on agony, promising a high I’ve never tasted.
Take her.
Drain her.
Make her yours.
My lips brush the tender skin of her throat.
One bite. One moment of ecstasy. One second of surrender. That’s all it would take.
She moans again, arching herself toward me.
My Bloodfire surges, the heat racing through me so hot I can’t hold back.
A sudden rush of adrenaline surges through me, throwing my head back.
I bare my fangs, my excitement racing through me as I lunge forward to bite when a blast of heat erupts between us, violent and blinding, her palms slamming against my chest with a flare of crimson-gold light that sears straight through my shirt and into my skin.
I choke on a shocked groan as pain punches through me, not cold or sharp but molten, fierce, and holy. The force of it throws me back a step, ripping her out of my grasp and tearing my Bloodfire from its frenzy like a creature wrenched off its prey.
Sloane stumbles away from me, staring at her glowing hands in horror. “What… what’s happening to me?” Her voice trembles, the light pulsing in rhythm with her racing heart, every pulse a wave of raw power spilling into the air.
The sight of it, the impossible, wild power sparking beneath her skin, shreds my Bloodfire’s control.
My fangs retract with painful reluctance, my lungs dragging in sharp breaths I don’t need as I force myself to turn away until the last of the hunger eases.
The burn mark on my chest throbs viciously, a perfect imprint of her palms scorched into my flesh.
No human could have done that.
No mortal should carry fire that can burn a creature like me.
What the fuck is she?